I tucked my knees up to my chest to mirror his position. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Which was the worst lie anyone had ever told ever. I didn’t even believe it when I said it, and I’m pretty sure he didn’t either, but he let it ride for a minute.
I would have told him anything—except my deepest, darkest secret—right then just so he’d let me stay there a little longer with him. That deepest, darkest secret was going with me to the grave, though, because there was no way I was about to let him know about the huge, embarrassing crush I’d been developing recently. On him. The completely out of my reach friend of my older brother.
Right then it was in the full-blown sweats and finger tingles stage and felt like the elephant crammed in the treehouse with us.
Bastien let out a low huff of air. “I guess we can sit here together for a while not talking about it then if you like.”
True to his word, he was silent for a long time.
After a while I looked around to find him watching me, which made me blush even harder. Lucky it was so dark. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” The words came out in a rush, and I tried not to sink into the floor in embarrassment while waiting for him to respond.
“Alright,” he said softly.
“You first, though.”
He shrugged again, and I expected him to deflect. I was surprised when his uneven gravelly voice said, “Mom and Dad are splitting up.”
“Oh, Bas!” I desperately wanted to hug him or reach out and hold his hand, but I wasn’t sure if that was allowed.
He glanced away. “It’s fine. They haven’t been happy for a while now. They fight all the time, and even I can see how this could be better for everyone.” Somehow his words sounded hollow. Flat, like he was trying too hard, which only doubled my outrage.
“But that’s horrible!”
He sighed. “Yeah. Feels pretty terrible right now.”
His sadness reached out to clutch me by the heart, and I wished there was something I could do to make him feel better. So I did the only thing I could think of and blurted out what Dad had just told me. “Mom’s sick.”
I would have said more, but just then my voice cracked like someone shattered a mirror, and all the tears from before came flooding back.
A strong, warm arm wrapped around my shoulders and Bastien pulled me against his side, which felt amazing even though my entire chest hurt, and that was so confusing it slowed the tears a bit.
“She’s never going to get better, Bas,” I hiccupped. “Not ever. There’s no cure.”
“What is it?”
“Multiple um… multiple something. I’m not really sure. But it’s bad.”
He hugged me tighter, and we just sat there in the dark for a while longer.
Then Riley’s voice broke through the quiet moment. “Vera! Are you out there? Dad says you have to come in now or you’re grounded for a week.”
Bastien started, pulling his arm away. “Come on. I’ll walk you home.”
I drag myself reluctantly back to the present, to the unanswered messages staring back at me accusingly from my phone. With a sigh I begin to type.
Vera: First of all, I told you not to call me that stupid nickname.
Vera: Secondly duh. I’ll be—I don’t even finish typing the second message when Riley responds.
Riley: Fight me. No seriously. I might even let you win if it means you’re home for Christmas. I don’t think I can deal with them alone.
I stop typing and delete what I was going to say, touched at the unexpected honesty from my emotionally stunted brother.
Vera: that bad huh?
Riley: The mood swings are bad, and Dad’s not coping. He pretends he’s fine, and that might be the worst part.
I bite hard on the side of my cheek to keep back the tears threatening to fall. Suddenly I feel like a complete idiot for not going home for Thanksgiving. I should have taken every day I could get instead of acting like a baby and hiding in my dorm. No matter how bad things seem, they could always get worse.
